The man who sold death

CHAPTER 7

In a room in Queen Anne's Gate, three men sat drinking coffee. One of them, Linton, was the inspector of the Special Branch who had visited Marshall's chief constable. Next to him was Grierson, an operator in a special department of Intelligence. Facing them across a desk was Loomis, a gross, sloppily dressed man, the head of Grier-son's section. It was known as Department K, a small, highly selective unit, and it was very secret indeed. Department K handled the jobs that were too dangerous to be handled by anyone else. The men who worked for it were skilled men, technicians; and utterly ruthless. They had to be, if they were to survive.

"We should have found Craig sooner," Loomis said angrily. "He could have been a big help to us. I could have used him. Of course the French would have been annoyed."

"Those madmen from Algeria fixed that," said Grierson.

Loomis said, "Craig, Baumer, and Rutter were the only ones in this country who went in for this kind of nonsense. Now Craig's dead, and they got Rutter in Geneva. Baumer's disappeared. He won't try it again even if he survives, so that's all right. This isn't a good time to have a row with the French. All the same, you should have found him before you did, Linton. I wanted to see him. You should have allowed for that."

Linton coughed warily. Loomis's nature was anything but forgiving. "It could be he isn't dead, sir," he said.

Loomis swiveled around in his chair to face him. An enormous man, hair splashed with white, like snow on a wheatfield, and light, manic eyes. "There's no need to be

willed him to take her. Their love was fierce yet tender, demanding yet compassionate, exhausting his body and mind of everything but his need for her. Even so, his sleep was wary.

frightened," he said. "I've just about decided to forgive you."

Linton said, "I'm serious, sir. I went up north again yesterday. Had a chat with Detective Inspector Marshall. His chief constable kept him on the case, sir, even after I'd told him you were against it."

Loomis stirred vastly, and Linton hurried on. "Marshall's a pretty bright chap, I think. He's had his medical experts working on what's left of the body. It was the wrong shape for Craig, sir. Too heavy. Then there's the brother-in-law's motor scooter. It's been found, sir. Or what's left of it. It was destroyed just outside York."

"Destroyed?"

"Petrol tank blown up, sir. He was lucky to get the chassis number." Loomis grunted.

"Marshall thinks the brother-in-law was killed in the car. Craig sometimes gave him his old clothes, which could account for the identification. He thinks Craig drove the scooter to York and took a train from there."

"Where to?" Loomis asked.

"Could be London, sir."

"Could be Timbuktu," said Loomis. "Why London?"

"Last night a man called Lishman was beaten up near Tottenham Court Road," Linton said. "He's in the Queen Alexandra Hospital-he'll be there for quite a while. He'll be lucky if he's ever a father again."

"Gangster obscenities," said Loomis. "Sunday-newspaper stuff."

"Lishman's tough," said Linton. "He had two other men to help him. They left with a fourth man and a girl from the club. The fourth man beat them stupid. It took him about five blows and thirty seconds. Then he left with the girl."

"Sensible feller," said Loomis.

"The general description we got could be Craig," said Linton.

Loomis said, "Why? Because he beat up three men? You could do that. Even Grierson could. And as far as general description goes, you both look like Craig. It'll probably turn out to be Grierson having a randy night out and too shy to tell us about it."

"Sir," said Linton. "I couldn't beat up those three. Not on my own. They were professionals. Good ones. Maybe Grierson could do it-"

"Very decent of you," said Grierson.

"But they'd have made a mess of him first. This lad doesn't seem to have been marked. And they're scared of him. Lishman doesn't scare easily."

"How did he do it?" Grierson asked.

"Judo mostly," said Linton.

"And Craig's a black belt," Grierson said.

"All right," said Loomis. "See if you can find the girl and have a word with her. And if it should be Craig, for God's sake go easy. I don't want him upset."

"Don't you want us to bring him in, sir?" Linton asked.

"I want you to ask him to come in," said Loomis. "I want you to ask him nicely. Just as well for you, really. It would look bad if he started knocking you about. People like to believe we're supermen." He looked at them with withering scorn. "All right. Get on with it."

Philip Grierson was thirty-seven years old, with black hair, blue eyes, and a laziness of disposition that could awake sometimes into eruptive violence, all of which made him remarkably attractive to women. He was an ex-Marine Commando captain, an excellent pistol shot, and a man of quick and resourceful wit. He had also a deep and passionate belief in the importance and necessity of his job, which he did well enough to persuade Loomis to treat him with a grudging respect. Moreover, he had always, so far, delivered the goods, and had killed three men in doing so. Loomis, to his horror, found that he was beginning to rely on him.

Linton knew very lhtle about Grierson, least of all that he had killed. It was Loomis's business to see that such things weren't known, and he conducted his business admirably, which was why he had ruled that very special department for nine years without so much as a question being asked in the House of Commons. Linton, like everyone else in the Special Branch, knew that the word

"Special" covered a wide area of extraordinary activity. Somewhere in a bookcase in his house in Pimlico, between Stone's Justices' Manual and Moriarty's Police Law, Linton had a dictionary that defined "special" as, among other things: particular, peculiar, chief in excellence; person or thing specially appointed. Linton understood very well that Grierson was all those things but he knew also that he was easy to work with, and unlikely to fuss.

They went to the club Craig had visited, the Lucky Seven, in Grierson's car, an elderly Lagonda whose gasoline consumption caused unending arguments with Grierson's accounts department, and occasional salutes from the more conservative type of policeman. The battlefield was calm and devoid of sightseers and the club had opened for its afternoon session when they arrived. Linton showed his warrant to a bored barmaid whose boredom vanished immediately with the realization that she had found another audience for her saga.

Linton and Grierson listened with the stolid good manners of professionals, and heard how the man called Reynolds had looked and dressed, and had drunk a lot of whisky, then had tried to sober up on coffee. When they asked her to provide a description, the barmaid said he was a smashing-looking feller, and when asked to be more specific, said he looked a bit like Grierson, only not so dark. Grierson was pleased, as always, by a tribute to his good looks; Linton assumed that the man had been menacing all along, but had masked it well, as Grierson did.

After Linton had threatened and Grierson had sympathized, the barmaid, very reluctantly, told them where Tessa lived. Then the manager appeared, took them to his office, poured out whisky, and talked at length of the pacific and law-abiding nature of bis members, pointing out that it was a guest, an unknown, who had run amok to such effect. The window from which he had watched the conflict was to the right of his desk; the telephone which he had not used to call the police, immediately before him. Linton remarked on this, and the manager insisted that he was as pacific as his members, and so upset by the sight of the conflict as to lose all ability to communicate, had had a blackout, in fact. The manager had two parallel razor slashes on his right cheek. Grierson and Linton drank more of his whisky, then went to call on Tessa Harling.

She, well groomed and pretty in a nylon dressing gown, sat in her kitchen watching Craig eat grilled bacon and scrambled eggs, which she had herself superbly prepared.

Tessa was thinking, to her immense astonishment, that she loved this man. Last night she had watched him fight with one of Nature's prime bastards, and hurt him where he, of all people, deserved to be hurt. Tessa knew he had done it for himself, not knowing or caring that she was there, but even so she loved him. He was dangerous and self-sufficient and almost certainly a criminal. None of it mattered. Soon, perhaps very soon, he would leave her because she was not clever enough or beautiful enough to hold him, and because he lived so secretly, as hunted men must. That mattered terribly, but it couldn't stop her from loving him. Nothing could do that. She had seen him fight, watched the terrible energy he had released, a cunning craft of destruction. Wherever he went, Craig carried danger with him like a bomb, but as long as he would let her, she would go too.

Craig finished his breakfast, and offered her a cigarette. "That was fine, Tessa," he said. "The best meal I've had in weeks."

She smiled her gratitude, but his eyes were cold still, and wary. Already she knew that he was considering how best to leave her, to get away.

"I want to help you. I want you to stay here," she said.

Even last night, she was thinking, when he was drunk, in that cautious, controlled sort of way, even then, when I thought he was an accountant or something, I couldn't leave him alone, I had to go after him, even with poor Mike Diamond sitting there, and Mike's spent an awful lot on me, and I quite like him really. But I just ignored him. This man filled my world.

"They'll trace me," Craig said. "They'll try to kill me."

Not for a moment did she doubt what he said.

"Who will?"

"Some people who didn't like the business I was in."

"You mean a gang, don't you?" she asked.

"No," he said. "Not a gang. Just killers. The best killers alive. They should be. They've had the most practice."

"But they can't possibly know you're here," she said.

"The police may find out," he said. "All they have to do is follow the police."

"Nobody saw you come in," she said. "People come and go here all the time. You'll be safe here, darling. I've got money-"

"So have I," he said. "I'm a rich man, Tessa. I've got ten thousand quid with me now."

"You could go away then," she said. "Anywhere in the world."

He shrugged.

"I'm supposed to be dead already," he said. "But I don't know if they believe it or not. If I run now, and the police get on to me, they'll find me too." The inquest, he thought. If they identify Charlie, if poor Alice recovers and tells the police that he was driving the car and I was in the orchard, they'll come for me again. But they may know already that they failed this time. They may be looking for me now. I daren't run away.

She saw how overwhelmingly tired Craig was, as he went on:

"You'd better not get mixed up in it. They'd kill you too, you know, to get at me. I mean it. The last time they tried for me, somebody else died."

He put his hand out to her, his ringers strong on her smooth, warm skin. There was desire in his hands, but there was friendship too, and kindness, and farewell, not just to this one girl, but to all the warmth and tenderness of a life he couldn't have.

"I wish I could stay," he said.

She kissed him then, clinging to him, willing him to love her, until at last he responded to her with an urgency that matched her own. When the doorbell rang, they still held tight to each other, trying to deny its sound, but it went on and on until she felt the hand at her shoulders move, tilting back her chin, so that she was looking into his eyes, wary again, and brutal.

"No," she whispered. "No. Believe me. I wouldn't-"

At last: "I believe you," he said. "Find out who it is." As she called out, he moved quickly, silently, stacking plates in the sink, hiding his suitcases among hers. When she came back, he was holding the Luger automatic.

"It's the police," she said. "I'll have to let them in."

He nodded. "All right. Try and keep them in the sitting room. And for God's sake look indignant. You've paid your taxes."

He went back to the kitchen, as the bell rang again, and she opened the door. Grierson's lazy charm buckled under the weight of her anger.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked. "I've just got out of bed."

"Mrs. Harling?" Linton asked.

"Yes," said Tessa. "Who are you?"

Linton introduced himself and Grierson.

"May we come in?" he asked.

"Must you?"

"It's important. Very important-for you," said Linton. "All right," she said. "In here."

They went into the sitting room, and Tessa willed herself not to look at the kitchen door.

Linton said at once, "You saw a fight last night." "Did I?"

"Oh, come off it," Grierson said, and offered her a cigarette. She shook her head.

"Everyone in the Lucky Seven saw you," Grierson continued. "You went out with a man called Lishman and two of his boys who thought they were tough. Another man went with you too. A Mr.-" he snapped his fingers. "Do you remember bis name?"

"Yes," she said. "And so do you. It was Reynolds."

"You saw what he did to the other three?"

"All right. All right. I saw what he did."

"Where did you go after that?"

"I came back here."

"With Mr. Reynolds?"

"You're joking," she said. "After what he did to Eddy Lishman? Suppose he did it to me?"

"Why should he?" Grierson asked. "You don't look like Eddy."

"No. And I don't fight like him either."

"People say he went with you," Linton said. She was sure she heard a tiny sound at the door of her flat, but the two men, alert as they were, didn't move.

"People say anything," said Tessa. "We went up to Tottenham Court Road together, then he left me."

"He didn't like you?"

"He can't have, can he?"

"Then why did he fight Lishman?"

"Men like that don't have to have a reason."

"Men like what?"

"Madmen," said Tessa.

"You think he was mad?"

"He must have been. You know why he did-that?" Grierson shook his head.

"Because Lishman wanted him to go to a party, and he wanted to go home. Half-killed the three of them. He must be mad."

"Home?" Linton asked.

Tessa willed herself to be more careful.

"That's what he said."

"You mean he lives in London?"

"He didn't say so," Tessa said.

"But he must, mustn't he? Or at any rate it looks as if he's staying here." Tessa said nothing. "Did he say what he was?" "An accountant," she said.

"An accountant?" Grierson yelled. "He just about crippled Lishman and those two bodyguards of his."

"Maybe he takes boxing lessons."

Grierson said, "You can't have been watching very closely. He kicked Lishman, and threw the others. When he hit them, it was like this."

He moved his hand in the air, demonstrating a karate chop. "That's right, isn't it?"

Tessa said, "You're a big man, aren't you?" She turned to Linton. "So are you. But you better watch out for that one. He'd clobber the pair of you."

"You seem very sure," Grierson said. "I saw him," said Tessa. "But you haven't seen him since?" "That's right."

"This chap, Diamond. He's a friend of yours, isn't he?" Grierson asked.

Tessa nodded. "He seemed to think you were fond of this-Reynolds."

"He thought wrong," Tessa said. "Anyway, he was drunk."

"So if we looked over your flat now, we wouldn't find him here?"

"Of course not."

"I see." Grierson smiled, using all his charm. "Well, in that case, Mrs. Harling, I think we'd better just take a look around, purely for your own protection, of course. I mean, a chap like that could break in at any time, and as you say, he's a madman, and you never know what a madman might do."

As he spoke, Grierson had moved into the hallway, and opened the kitchen door before Tessa could stop him. The kitchen was empty. Tessa forced herself to go on protesting as he examined her bathroom and bedroom. Then he turned to her at last, beaming comfort.

"There you are, Mrs. Harling," he said. "You've got nothing at all to worry about. You're perfectly safe."

"Well, of course I am," Tessa said. "I told you there was nobody here."

"Oh come now, miss," said Linton. "It was you who asked us to look around, now wasn't it? It's not the sort of thing we'd do without a warrant, not unless we were asked." Tessa took a deep breath, and Grierson admired the rich heave of her breasts.

"Get out," she said.

Grierson sighed. "If you insist. We policemen are used to ingratitude. Look, Mrs. Harling, if you should ever see Reynolds again-"

"I won't," she said.

"Life's very uncertain sometimes. If you should just happen to run into him by accident, ask him to give me a ring, will you?" He scribbled a number on a page of a small notebook, and banded it to her. "Tell him he can reach me here at any time. You can tell him we know about a chap called Rutter too. And say we can help him. We want to help him."

"Why bother?" Tessa asked.

"It's no bother," said Grierson. "Good-looking chap, was he?"

"He was drunk," Tessa said. "Then he was fighting. What he looked like didn't matter." "To him, do you mean?"

"To anybody," she said. "He was a man on his own."

They left, and Tessa locked the door and ran to where he'd hidden the suitcases. One of them had been opened, and was empty. She wept for a little, and then began to wash the dishes. In the street outside, Grierson stared in disgust at the soggy imitations of Georgian brick.

"I think we just missed him," he said. "You saw the bed, didn't you? And the breakfast dishes? I think it was him."

"Quick work," said Linton.

"You're forgetting the circumstances. You shouldn't do that. Always allow for circumstances. Look. She's on her own. She's lonely-bored with heir own company and bored with her friends. She drifts-meets a few of the wrong people-like Lishman. She's not a whore but he treats her like one, and she knows his reputation. She knows what he'll do if she objects. So she doesn't object. She plays along and hopes for a miracle. And she gets a miracle. A knight in shining armor. A rescuer of distressed damsels. Who else would she bed with? He's Robin Hood, Sir Galahad, and Young Lochinvar all rolled up into one gorgeous six-foot package. 'A man on his own,' she said. 'What he looked like didn't matter,' she said. The poor kid's hooked."

"And Craig? If Reynolds is Craig?"

"He'll know how she feels," Grierson said. "And he wants to five. By now he'll be miles away. But just in case he isn't, we'd better go back."

They went through the building floor by floor, then returned to Tessa's flat. She opened the door at once, her face falling when she saw who it was. "You seem disappointed," said Grierson.

"Can you blame me?" said Tessa, but she made no move to stop them as they went once more through the flat.

"You still say he wasn't with you last night?" Grierson asked.

"You have a very nasty mind," said Tessa.

"No," Grierson said. "Not on duty. There were two of you in bed. That's a fact, Mrs. Harling. Just a fact. Who was the other one?"

"I don't remember," said Tessa. "I have a very bad memory-for faces."

"You can't act either," said Grierson. "You're not like that at all."

Tessa flushed.

"Tell Reynolds I want to see him. I want to keep him alive," said Grierson.

Tessa remade her bed, swallowed a couple of tablets, and slept. Half an hour later Craig came back into the flat, stared at the sleeping girl, and settled down to wait. After three hours she stirred; after four, her eyes opened, to see him looking down at her.

"You shouldn't-" she said. "Those policemen. They've been back here once already-"

"One of them's still outside," Craig said. "They'll be watching you now. I told you what it would be like."

"But I told them just what you said-"

"The dark one, Grierson," Craig said. "I heard the way he was questioning you before I got out. He's good. He knows I've been here?"

"I'm sorry," said Tessa. "I just couldn't hide it."

Craig shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. When they came, I was going to leave you. 1 took my money and went out while you were talking. They searched the whole building before they came back here. Did you know that? Grierson's clever, all right. But he didn't have enough men to do a proper job. All the same, he should have checked the service elevator." He grinned. "Just as well for me he didn't. All the time we were playing hide and seek, I was thinking about what I was going to do, and it all came back to the same thing, every time. I don't want to be alone any more. If we play this right, we might just get away with it. There's a chance, anyway. A good chance. All the same, you'll be taking a hell of a risk, Tessa."

"I don't mind," she said. "Honestly I don't. My life wasn't all that marvelous before."

"And if things got too rough, I might have to leave you again."

"I'll take what I can get," she said at last, and drew him down to her.

This time she made love with a completeness, an urgency, that came close to despair, and when they had done, Craig slept, deeply, without fear. Outside, Linton watched, and was angry, and longed for his relief. Craig would be miles away by now, and even if he wasn't, why should he give himself up to Grierson? And even if he did, why should he help Loomis? He shifted from one foot to the other, and looked at a fat, dark cloud, heavy wtih rain. Grierson was all right in his way, but when it came to the boring jobs he always disappeared.